Don't You Remember?
by wolfseer4life33
Summary: Don't you remember... To which Hong Kong flashes through his life and the decisions that made his life a never-ending cycle of misery. Silver linings on storm clouds are his only solace. But silver starts to lose it's luster once the rain comes down. Drabble. Warnings: implied self-harm, author headcannons, and depressions.


Don't You Remember?

* * *

Don't you remember what it was like to be loved? _All of the English Colonies took good care of you, your mother took good care of you. She gave you siblings. She gave you silks to wear, food to eat, a father who was supposed to protect you. What has she not sacrificed for you? What has Canada, India, Australia and New Zealand not sacrificed? What has those states not given to you without a second thought? What about America who has given you the strength you have today? _

Don't you remember what it was like to be at war? _He was to take his mother's place fighting invaders in the North. She's sacrificed more than blood up there. He was scared. His twin sister was scared. The other siblings he had were scared even though he'd only met them once. And when they did meet it was after the World Wars. After Japan had broken him into his current state. He could see how sad they were when they realized their prankster of a brother was gone. _

Don't you remember what it was like to have a lover? _Their kisses were innocent at the time since Hong Kong looked like a girl in his youth. When __**he**__ found out __**he'd**__ immediately left in disgust. Only now have they gone back to a cordial relationship. But Hong Kong still loved, still pined and rejected every offer he received. His brothers with red, silver, and violet eyes watch sympathetically. They know it too. They've just stopped caring, they lost hope. He has not. _

Don't you remember what it was like to play?_ Rolling hills and clear blue skies. Both seem present in times far from each other. His sister giggles as they fish for glistening carp or a tasty catfish. Their mother calmly points out the types of animals and helps them cast their lines. Their father isn't there but they don't care. She's there, with them. Hong Kong realizes why she never let them touch weapons until centuries after their birth. For moments like this. _

Don't you remember what it was like to be honest? _Lying was his way now. His markets, his government, his people even. Everyone lies. It's just a matter of how often they do it. _

Don't you remember what it was like to be free?_ Only in the balmy days of his mother and sister. Only in the brief moments of camraderie in the Tower of London. Only when he's handed permission to be himself. He wishes he didn't need rights to be free. Sometimes his extended family takes him out for fun. He's free enough then. Maybe that's enough. It might have been enough had it been allowed to stay that way. _

Don't you remember what it was like to die_? Of course he remembers this. It's Mongolia first, then China then England then Japan. He always remembers the people who killed him. Made him this shell of blank poker faces and copyrighting mania. He supposes it's his way of getting back at them. Even if it means having them storm into his house and throw their fists and words. He shrugs it off. He can't die. He's too important to their wealth. So he does as he's always done. _

_Don't you remember..._

Hong Kong's pen drops. He's silent. He's silent still when red liquid leaks onto the paper. He's silent when his papers is read while his head is wrapped in a bandage.

He's silent when the people nearby him start fretting. He's silent to the apologies. _They don't mean them._ He know they don't. They just want to keep him around. For wealth. For Fun. For God or Buddha knows what reason. The only people who are honest is them. But they can't talk to him. Can't say a word. It'd look too weird to the world. So he's silent. Just like them.

He doesn't want to be them but he wonders if they're better off.

So he waits for all of it to end.

One.

Two.

Three.

They start paying attention to someone else.

Three minutes of attention...well that was normal

He's worth three minutes of 108 hours.

He's worth three sentences in history.

He's worth three countries in wealth but that doesn't stop them from

Treating.

Him.

Like.

A.

Thing.

What can he do? When he write this all down again and the red leaks onto the page familiarly.

_Maybe this time they'll end it._

* * *

**_A/N: Something to prove that no, I'm not dead and yes, I will update my stories at some point. A very depressing drabble I wrote. Not sure where it came from and I'm not saying where. Yes, this is based off of my own headcanons about Island and her family but is free to interpretation. Hong Kong to me seems like a sad and lonely character, much like most of my favorite characters actually. There is some historical truth behind all of this but nothing serious so please, don't knock me for historical accuracy. The review button is waiting. _**


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